


Of Monsters and Massages

by pineapplesage3



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Geralt's quiet but not when his bard is involved, Hurt!Geralt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Scenting, and we love him for it, i guess, jaskier's an awkward dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplesage3/pseuds/pineapplesage3
Summary: Geralt's pretty roughed up after his fight with the selkiemore, so Jaskier helps clean him up. It turns out Geralt rather likes having the bards hands on him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 378





	Of Monsters and Massages

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is the first fic I've ever posted. Hope you like it!   
> find me on tumblr :) @atticus-bluejay

Jaskier pulled his fingers through Geralt's wet hair and grimaced. “Fuck, Geralt. You’re almost as pale as your hair,” Jaskier said, his gentle movements not matching the irritated tone of his voice. Selkiemore guts clung to his fingers and he flicked them onto the floor with an irritated huff. Leaning over the tub carefully he poured a pitcher of bathwater over Geralt’s head and swore as some of it splashed onto his white shirt. Geralt closed his eyes, weak and unguarded. The lukewarm water was a rusty red color, and several greenish chunks floated inside. Normally he’d call for another one to be brought up- or at least warm it with an igni, but he doubted he’d have the strength for either right now. 

"Right. Well, I think that's about as good as it's going to get. Let's get you up." Jaskier moved to help Geralt up- as if he would be able to lift him out of the tub. Geralt raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. With an eye roll, Jaskier turned away. Geralt watched him as he busied himself with the contents of Geralt's case, pulling out the jars of ointments and vial of oil the medic had said to use. He prattled on as he did so, about the virtues of caution and self-preservation. Geralt paid him little mind besides throwing in a few affirming 'hmms' and grunts. Geralt drew a hand across his body and felt the gashes on his side and back pull. He had lost a lot of blood, he knew that. He groaned as he hauled himself out of the water. The room swam before him and his head spun. He braced himself on the rough wooden side of the tub, his knuckles white with effort. Jaskier was next to him then. Entirely too close as he reached out to steady him. He could smell him. Everything on him. And it wasn’t making the task any easier.

"I'm fine, Jas." Geralt said roughly, closing his eyes in an effort to make the room stop spinning "I just need a second."

"Oh, yes, clearly," Jaskier shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "you look the very picture of health. Like a young foal just learning to canter,” Geralt elected not to respond and instead focused on getting himself to the bed. He swayed dangerously and swore, leaning heavily on Jaskier for support. They made their way across the room slowly, although it wasn't a far walk. The inn they were staying in was seedy at best, but it wasn't like Geralt could sleep in the woods in his state. Geralt sat heavily down onto the bed gathering his thoughts. Jaskier leaned over him, still far too close for Geralt to be truly comfortable. It wasn’t as though Jaskier hadn’t seen him nude before. They had traveled together far too long for that to still be a concern. No. It was something else. Jaskier seeing him wounded, perhaps. Or maybe the combination of the two. Naked and wounded. Truly vulnerable.

"I spoke with the medic while you were getting ready," Jaskier said, oblivious to Geralt’s reverie. "He gave me these and told me to make sure you put them both on." He held up a jar of salve and a small bottle of oil. "He said you were likely to avoid them, and quite frankly I agree."

Geralt grunted in affirmation "I don't like the way they make me feel. I took a blood replenishment potion. I'll be fine with that"

"No. Nope, I don't think so," Jaskier said firmly. He handed Geralt the jar and gently pushed him back onto the pillows. "Rub this on any open wounds," he ordered. Geralt made a face. "I mean it! Do it or I'll start singing." 

" You drive a hard bargain. You know I'm not going to risk that," Geralt teased. It was only half a tease though really. As much as he may secretly enjoy it most of the time he thought his head might burst if he heard a single note on a lute at the moment. 

"Hey. Watch it, you." Jaskier gave him a look, but he could see the affection in his eyes. "Just because I said it doesn't mean you need to agree." 

"Hmm." Was the witcher's only response.

"Hmm, yourself.” 

Geralt sighed and globbed a bit of the paste onto a gash on his stomach, hissing as the wound bubbled and smoked. He clenched his teeth and watched a thin film close over it. Jaskier sat down on the bed beside him looking disgusted and intrigued in equal parts. “Wow. That is really something. Maybe I should include that in my next song,” He raised a hand and sang, “Knitted back together with a salve picked from the heather….. Nah that’s shit.” 

Geralt glared at him. “You said no singing.”

“Oh, Alright.” Jaskier huffed. “But turn over, I need to get your back."

Geralt grumbled but turned over obediently. As loathe as he was to admit it, the salve was helping a lot. Jaskier rubbed the thick paste into the worst of his wounds. "Fuck, Jaskier! A little warning?" He recoiled sharply as the bard attacked another particularly big one. 

"Sorry," Jaskier replied, not sounding sorry at all. He worked quickly, covering all of the cuts and bruises. “It’s your own fault, though. Who dives into the mouth of a beast to tear it apart from the inside? I mean, what were you expecting?”

Geralt didn't answer. In truth, it had been an extraordinarily careless move. Geralt had been distracted all week by troubling news he had been hearing. News regarding Cintra and the people within it. He hadn’t forgotten his child surprise. In fact, he suspected she was the only reason he was still alive. He couldn’t very well fulfill his destiny if he was eaten by a Selkiemore, could he? Not that Jaskier needed to know that. And that was the other half of the problem, wasn’t it? Jaskier. Geralt had become accustomed to having him around. He enjoyed spending time with him- even if it meant listening to his unending chatter. Much to his own surprise, Geralt had found himself missing the bard on more than one occasion as of late. 

Jaskier leaned over Geralt, carefully brushing his long white hair away from his shoulders to examine a mottled bruise forming near his neck. He held up a bottle for Geralt's inspection. "The medic said you'd need this rubbed in tonight too. And the salve again in the morning." Hmm. The oil he’d consent to. But he definitely wasn’t going to be putting that salve on again any time soon.

Jaskier uncapped the oil and poured some into his hands. “Heads up,” he said- a bit cheekily Geralt thought -and began to smooth it across the top of Geralt's back. Geralt tensed as Jaskier began to massage his neck and shoulders. The scent of the oil was almost overwhelming. Verbena and lemon. It wasn't unpleasant, though Geralt much preferred the scent of the outdoors. Or 'death and destiny' as Jaskier was fond of calling it. Geralt slowly began to relax under Jaskier's ministrations. The bard's calloused fingers worked methodically. Gentle at first and then more powerfully. Digging into his muscles to loosen them up. Geralt groaned as Jaskier hit a particularly sore spot. He felt the bard's hands falter slightly and noted the jump in his pulse. And wasn't that interesting?

"You ok?" Jaskier asked, an odd tone in his voice.

"Mmmm, yes." Geralt responded in a voice that was raspy and rather deeper than normal. He cleared his throat and flushed a little. Jaskier's breath hitched and he redoubled his efforts, pushing his thumbs into the muscles in Geralt's back. And gods his hands felt simply divine. Moving slowly and attentively. Those long, nimble, fingers pressing and releasing and drawing the pain away from Geralt as though this was what they had been created to do. 

Geralt made a deep sound in his chest as Jaskier moved his hands lower, working oil into the muscles near Geralt's ribs and around his spine. "Ahhh, fuck," Geralt moaned. He could hear Jaskier's heart pounding in his chest. And he could smell him too. That sharp smell that so often clung to the bard. He felt heat pooling in his belly and took a deep breath to steady himself. But fuck, that scent. It was heady. Intoxicating. It made him want to take himself in hand. Or perhaps take Jaskier in hand. Jaskier, whose hands were currently kneading and grabbing, and worshiping. He could spend an eternity like this, he knew. He could hear Jaskier’s heart racing behind him. Hear the uneven pace of his breathing. He could sense his nerves in addition to his arousal. “Why so quiet, bard?” Geralt drawled, drawing out his words and letting the sounds fall softly from his lips. He let out a long groan as Jaskier’s hands slipped lower around his waist. “if I had known this is all it would take to quiet you down I would have asked you for a massage a long time ago.” 

“I uh... Ha! Yeah…” Jaskier’s fingers curled over Geralt’s hips almost involuntarily. As if out of habit. His thumbs worked in powerful circles, and Geralt moaned and arched under his touch. And if that happened to push his ass up a bit, well, that just couldn’t be helped. Jaskier gulped audibly. Almost comically, really. “Ah! Right! Ok. Good!” Geralt opened his eyes as Jaskier removed his hands and quickly turned away to hide his rather impressive erection. As though Geralt hadn’t been observing the tenting of his pants through half-lidded eyes the whole time. “I’ve just remembered I left my, uh, hat at the bar. So. Best go get it!” he announced to the room at large. Geralt let him get halfway across the room before rolling onto his side and calling to him. 

“Jaskier.” The bard stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Yes?” 

“You weren’t wearing a hat today.” 

Jaskier turned back to look at him. A guilty look on his face that turned to surprise and desire almost as soon as he saw him. Geralt knew he looked good like this. Stretched out on his side with an arm under his head. His other hand drew lines on his stomach. Inching farther and farther down with every pass. Closer to the sole focus of Jaskier’s current attention. His cock jutted out and curved towards his belly. Flushed and glistening, with a bead of precum smeared across the head. Jaskier’s mouth moved wordlessly as he gaped at Geralt. 

“Jaskier.” 

“I uh... yes?” Jaskier finally tore his gaze away from Geralt’s cock and met his eyes.

“Come to bed.”


End file.
